Welcome to Day 1 of the July Open Write. If you have written with us before, welcome back. If you are joining us for the first time, you are in the kind, capable hands of today’s host, so just read the prompt below and then, when you are ready, write in the comment section below. We do ask that if you write, in the spirit of reciprocity, you respond to three or more writers. To learn more about the Open Write, click here.
Our Host
Mo lives in Oak Forest, Illinois where she works as a middle school reading specialist. She serves as a mentoring coordinator and go-to person for colleagues. Mo enjoys traveling, reading, and spending time with her very large family. Mo is excited to attend The Poetry Foundation’s Summer Teachers Poetry Institute for the first time this July.
Inspiration
I find Paul Laurence Dunbar’s poem We Wear the Mask incredibly moving. It got me thinking about how many of us move through life wearing masks. I often wonder how well I know someone, or how much of myself I show to others.
Process
Consider the masks you or those around you might wear. Using a format of your choosing, write a poem about a mask or masks. I went with a free verse poem, but maybe a Golden Shovel is more to your liking today.
Mo’s Poem
Inherited Mask
By Mo Daley 5/29/23
I inherited this mask from my mother,
who I believe, inherited hers from her mother.
How many generations have veiled themselves
in masks of stoicism and calm?
In masks of patience and understanding?
We are strong women, by all accounts,
revered for our ability to deftly handle the most extreme circumstances.
But it is onerous,
living life hiding behind a mask
trying not to let the plaster crack,
fulfilling expectations that have been thrust upon me,
only displaying my veneer to the world.
Vulnerability may be an option,
but how can an old woman
unyoke an inherited mask?
Your Turn
Now, scroll to the comment section below to write your own poem. (This is a public space, so you may choose to use only your first name or initials depending on your privacy preferences.) Not ready? That’s okay. Read the poems already posted for more inspiration. Ponder your own throughout the day. Return later. And, if the prompt does not work for you, that is fine. All writing is welcome. Just write something. Also, please be sure to respond to at least three writers. Oh, and a note about drafting: Since we are writing in short bursts, we all understand (and even welcome) the typos and partial poems that remind us we are human and that writing is always becoming. If you’d like to invite other teachers to write with us, tell them to subscribe. For suggestions on how to comment with care. See this graphic.
Fresh face in the mirror,
We have minutes,
and all too soon— seconds.
Gone. Lines that hold echos of radiance,
Smoothed for the public favor,
Pressed and muted behind
hot, sticky, sterile
Plastic.
Words do not cross
The neutral curve of synthetic lips,
My skin itches, screams,
Louder, louder, louder—
Our eyes catch for a breath,
And I swear your screams join
Mine in a symphony of agony.
The crescendo ends abruptly,
A turn of your head.
Gone.
Connection snuffed out,
Too brilliant for this life,
Silent curses reside behind clenched teeth,
I vow to throw out the,
Mask
Be done with it,
For you,
Trembling hands betray me
My mask is my savior
It hides me from fears
It shields me from anxiety
But does it actually help?
I must face my fears
I want to grow stronger
I must remove the mask
Coming back on Day 3 for Day 1. Wow Mo, this one made me a little uncomfortable. So, instead of avoiding writing, I shared a hard truth. One day I will figure out my masks and take them off. I may even break some of them. Your last stanza really spoke to me: “Vulnerability may be an option,
but how can an old woman
unyoke an inherited mask?”
And this is where it lead me.
Masquerade Until…
If I were to unveil my true self, would it be frightening?
The many masks suffocate my identity.
Oh, how I long just to be me!
Let me
wallow in my quirkiness,
sink in my flaws,
dissipate in my self.
I think I wear so many masks
I have lost my identity.
We cover up how we truly feel.
Wear fake smiles hiding what is real.
The world cares not about the
mask we wear or why. But
that we fit its mold.
Grins and laughter
and “I’m fine!”;
lies to
— hide.
Sadly this is so often true. I hope we are getting better at checking in each other, though.
Donnetta, there are so many truths to this it is sickening. Sickening how much we conform to the world and as a result, we lose ourselves. I most resonated with “I’m fine!”; lies to-hide.” I use that so often and I’ve been trying to stop. Because now “I’m fine” is code for I’m drowning! Thank you for sharing this.
Donnetta, this was very eye opening. It is scary and sad to think of how easily people can be conformed at forced into the status quo of hiding behind their mask. I believe its the job of educators to push students to remove their masks and be themselves, and with that celebrate themselves for who they are!
Mo,
“living life hiding behind a mask
trying not to let the plaster crack,”
These lines were powerful for me to read.
I have inherited a mask too, Mo. Your poem speaks truth. I forgot it was time for the Open Write this weekend, and I just remembered, so I’m here with a quick Golden Shovel using your two lines above. Thank you for the prompt and the inspiration.
To My Mask
Living with you has made
life duller and fabricated–
hiding my depth. Who am I
behind the bluff?
A quiet, nice, wave-calmer is my
mask, but behind I’m a long story of
trying on, weaving through time. I’m
not content with me without you, but
to be honest, that is an excuse to
let come what may. I can’t be hurt if
the truth hides. But once in a while the
plaster of pretense lifts, and I rejoice in the
crack in you.
I’m so glad you wrote today, Denise. I live the idea of being a long story of trying on, weaving through time. And your last line is so powerful!
Thought-provoking poem, Denise. I love this question, “Who am I/behind the bluff?” Beautiful.
Denise!!!! This might be one of my favorite poems from your rich treasure! It resonated with me on many levels. Memories of myself “hiding my depth” and knowing that the truth would eventually surface. Ohhhh, yes, you nailed this one!
Clapping and cheering!
I loved this: “ I’m a long story of
trying on, weaving through time”
and your riveting final two lines!
Brava!
Denise, “I can’t be hurt if
the truth hides.” An ugly truth that I seek refuge in. This is so beautiful. That crack in the mask is liberation emerging, so yes, let us rejoice! Thank you for this!
Sand and all that gravel
Mr. Oak said the ground would be made of sand
Your pine would float downhill to the river grand
I didn’t want to waste my time and put my mask on
Should have been cedar we put you in
But our hearts, backs, and hands hurt, worn thin
There was not enough time
We settled on pine
All that sand
His very own pick axe and shovel
A very tall man
Drenched, sweating out tears while the Sexton watched
He dug and he dug
No sand
He dug and he dug
‘Time to go’ I screamed slamming around the corner
Drinks for the two-tracks in
Drinks for the sad social hour
Drinks to keep my mask on tight
It wasn’t enough, so we came back
With an eagle circling high above
After the Wild Irish Rose
Time to say ‘goodbye’
Everyone jumped when I was the first to toss that sand on the pine
Funny how it sounded like stone
Loud with a thud and a scatter
Gravel
Don’t forget a glare for Mr. Oak
Now come follow me Mr. Parlorman
It’s only a quarter mile
Take flowers in my house
I will watch as you walk past the stones
And please sir, don’t pay any mind to the gravel
Dad,
If the gravel ground isn’t enough
We have broken, split, and worked a stone
Pudding
A stone for your head and a seat for me
So we can still have our coffee
I will watch the big trucks go by slowly moving all that
GRAVEL
Emily, thank you for your poem today. I like the abstract nature of the story told, and the questions that arise from reading your poem. Some of my favorite lines include the “Drinks…” Powerful. I also like “So we can still have our coffee”
What a story I’m imagining while reading your poem, Emily. Your word choice perfectly suits the topic of your poem. I really like the image of a sad social hour.
I Wear a Mask (Living in rural Iowa, 2023)
I wear a mask with giant ears,
It welcomes everything it hears–
This pose I hold for those who must
Spew words at me with utmost trust
I’ll share their viperid, poison fears.
Why should the haters know my pain
In list’ning to their terror rein?
Nay, let them echo to themselves–
I’ll wear a mask.
I nod, but, O e-gads! Insane
the words strike at my cowering brain.
I smile, but still the shrapnel blasts
Against my mind, until at last
I ‘scape from vileness again,
Behind the mask.
Allison, the rhythm of this poem mirrors the original well. I love the “giant ears” (I picture corn). Thanks for sharing ❤️ 🌽
Why dues this poem make me think you are a bad ass Iowan? Love it!
Allison,
This poem is mightily powerful! “list’ning to their terror rein” is indeed difficult to do without the protection of a mask. Even without my finely honed poker face skills, those who spew hate take me to the limits. Well done!
I am glad I came back to yesterday’s prompt, Allison! I love the rhythm of your poem and the reduced vowels that help keep up the pattern and strengthen the message. The second stanza is my favorite; this is the reason many of us wear masks. Thank you!
This poem is so relatable that it made me laugh a bit, even though I know the feeling isn’t funny. I love the rhythm of your poem as well.
Allison, my goodness!! You nailed this! I honestly wanted to copy the entire poem to highlight my favorite lines. So much to love because it’s the raw truth! I love it. Powerful imagery of shrapnel blasting against your mind! Wow!
Mo, I’m late writing because somehow I let today be Friday in my head! LOL, thanks to summer brains!
Thank you for offering Dunbar’s poem and yours to guide us into our writing today. I absolutely adore your poem. The final two lines resonated with me. However, you are NOT AN OLD WOMAN! Perfect choice to say “unyoke an inherited mask.”
I decided to use the Zappai form (5-7-5 syllable count but not about nature like haiku).
Masks We Don’t See
Busy is a mask
Worn to hide anxiety
Holding joy hostage
Lying is a mask
Covering sadness inside
Keeping truth in chains
ⓒStacey L. Joy, July 15, 2023
Ooh! I like how you’ve started with busy and lying as masks. Both are so true. And I’m laughing out loud at you saying I’m not old. I guess that’s how I was feeling when I wrote that poem. Thank you, as always!
“Friday in My Head” is the title of my next poem <3
Stacey, you HIT me with “anxiety holding joy hostage” and “lying…keeping truth in chains.” Wow. Thank you for giving me–and the universe–these poems tonight. Loving you.
Stacey, powerful images you have created in your Zappai poems. I am thinking about this idea of your first lines and wondering what other masks I wear besides busy and lying. “keeping truth in chains” is so true.
Stacey, this is a gift of a poem! I will hold onto these favorite lines “Holding joy hostage” and “Keeping truth in chains.” Thank you so much for your wisdom!
This is a great way to look at both aspects of what our students and people surrounding us could be going through. It is also eye opening for myself as it is a good poem to self reflect upon. I really like how you went about it in two separate ways but very similar.
Mo, thank you for this prompt today. There are so many masks that we wear.
Morning Masks
Mornings are not my jam
So I pour my mask in a mug
Strong hot and black
Slowly sipping it
Coffee is my morning mask
DeAnna, I don’t like coffee at all, but you make it sound so fabulous! Pouring your mask in a mug is perfect!
DeAnna, I’m with you (aside from the fact that I take my “morning mask” with a bit of cream and sugar)! Thanks for writing and sharing! 🙂
Ohhh! DeAnna, I love what you’ve done here. “I pour my mask in a mug” is a great example of what I love about poetry: inviting me to a new way of looking/seeing life. I can’t wait to pour my mask tomorrow. You made me think.
This!! Don’t talk to me until I’ve had my coffee! Thanks for sharing and now I’m even more excited for my brew tomorrow morning.
DeAnna,
This made me think of “Eleanor Rigby” by the Beatles with her face in a jar by the door. I know you “need” your coffee to feel civil to humanity, and I love the metaphor of the coffee being a mask. Nicely done. 🙂
I love the little tie-in of jam being a breakfast food, too. Clever 🙂
DeAnna, I agree with you! I love how you chose something like coffee as your mask. My mask has cream! 💙
DeAnna this is great! You are so right that we all have our different masks. Sometimes masks can be good, which I believe is the point you are making with coffee. It can be good to have a mask that will motivate us and help us get to where we need to be!
Thank you for the prompt! I typically shy away from writing about myself so this was a challenge.
My smiles, some days,
Are for myself,
One way I know
To make me well.
The mask I wear
I craft with care;
I’m not so easy
To deceive,
And harder still
To really please.
I am the girl
I want to be,
I am the girl
I want to be,
“The mask I wear I Craft with care” speaks volumes. I love how you’ve ended with a repeated affirmation.
Shelby, Your poem is utterly lovely. I love the way you’ve constrained the line length–it fits the “control” theme. Each line of your poem pulled me in as I invested in “one way I know to make me well.” Your final repetition sent my heart soaring!
Shelby,
The repetition at the end really hit me–a mantra reminding yourself to be true to yourself. Wonderful and poignant.
Oh, Mo! I, too, love Dunbar’s poem, and I’m eager to get started on your prompt. But first let me respond to yours. “Trying not to let the plaster crack” grabbed me with its tactile/auditory imagery. And then your final line’s use of “unyoke” was a gem. I see you yoked–with strength and determination–to the other strong women in your line. And the term also calls forth the burden/submission of the “load” you (and yours) carry. Lovely work. I can’t wait to use your prompt alongside Dunbar’s poem and this video
Very cool film!
Ooooweeee, Allison! This video is POWERRRRFUL!! I will have to find a way to use it too! Thank you for sharing it. Even though 5th graders don’t struggle as much with identity as middle schooler (I think??) I see so much they can learn from this video.
Love this prompt, Mo! I am just back from a vacation in Maine. Just yesterday, I had a wonderful conversation with a stranger and found myself thinking about how sometimes it is easier to set aside our masks with those we don’t know and will never see again…
Maine Vacation
trinkets tchotchkes souvenirs
treasure trove of a store
looking about, I find
concealed on a rack
one lonely t-shirt, for sale
be careful who you hate,
it could be someone you love
the store is quiet
just me and the merchant
I sidle up to the counter
any chance you have this in other sizes?
it is such a beautiful message
we meet eyes
I’m sorry I don’t have any others right now
I love the message, too
though I don’t suppose one t-shirt
will change minds
one never knows, I say
maybe someone will read it
and think of their nephew, a neighbor, someone else
maybe, just for a moment
they’ll pause?
the merchant smiles – oh yes! – and shares
I want my child to be able to tell me their hard stuff
to fall asleep knowing their mother loves them so
rather than raising a child who locks it all in
and falls asleep hurting
why can’t we simply love one another?
the merchant asks, with watering eyes
and there we stood at the counter, together
just me and the merchant
letting down masks
and I feel giddy from the reveal
Maureen,
You reveal such truth . . . we often lower that mask more for people we don’t know at all and will never see again than for our loved ones.
What beautiful story own you shared, Maureen. I just adore this seemingly innocuous encounter that allowed you to make such a connection. I love the sounds, especially in the first stanza.
Maureen, I saw the same inscription posted by someone on Facebook just a few days ago – what a coincidence to read it in your poem today. Such a profound thought! I agree that it is easier to unmask in front of the stranger. Love the openness and sincerity of your conversation with this merchant. Thank you!
This was so lovely to read. You captured the moment so perfectly and easily. You’re right to point out that conversations with strangers, when there is no need for a mask, are such valuable moments and I’m glad I got a peek into one and your insight to it.
Maureen,
The hopeful feelings flow right to my heart. I’ve been thinking a lot about the despair of our earth and humanity. It’s just a matter of choosing love over hate. Thank you. 💛
Mo, thank you for inviting us to reflect on this idea today. I like how yours explores those generational cycles. The final phrase: “unyoke an inherited mask?” has been sticking with me all day. Thank you for sharing.
Duality of Masks
Listen: it’s what I hate
about teaching,
sometimes.
I have to put on a mask, everyday
(even if I slept poorly or feel a cold coming on
or I have period cramps or bad laws keep passing).
I powder myself in positivity fairy dust
and believe that things will get better
and that good things happen to good people.
and that the bad guys will get what they deserve.
Because, if I don’t believe it, then who will?
Listen: it’s what I love
about teaching,
sometimes.
“I powder myself in positivity fairy dust” – love this so! It is the magic of teaching, I think, that we can leave all the ugly at the threshold … put on a mask and act our way into a perfect world.
Rachelle, I love the bookending of your poem: “it’s what I hate” but also “it’s what I love.” And I totally feel this, too! It is “sometimes” difficult to activate our enthusiasm about a certain text (when everything, everything, in the world is seemingly against us), but once “there” it can be very comforting and reassuring, too. Thank you for this!
Rachelle,
The set-up of this poem really works . . . how we often both hate and love aspects of our job, namely having to put on the mask. I used to say, “It’s time to put on my positive pants” but I love this image so much more:
Rachelle,
I love what you have done here. I love the your line “I powder myself in positive fairy dust” such a a great visual. I will have to do this more on my bad days. Thank you for sharing today.
Terrific structure in this poem, Rachelle. It really works here. Your second stanza has beautiful, real-world imagery, but I love that positivity fairy dust!
Rachelle, I didn’t know what to expect when I saw the title and thought it would be about two opposing masks. You played framing masterfully. The same mask may be a blessing and a curse. I love that you “powder yourself in positivity” because if you “don’t believe it, then who will?” This is what good teachers do. You are your students’ rock! Thank you for sharing.
Rachelle,
Yes! This! So much so! Those things we master as teachers are very much the same things that exhaust us and put us to the edge. I love the parallel “listens” at the start and end. May you have an unending supply of positivity dust (do you have any extra?). <3
Thank you for your lovely words Mo, and for sharing the work of Dunbar. It was something I really resounded with the ideas of changing identities based on circumstances. I appreciate how your poem speaks to the masks that we inherit from our families.
For my poem, I chose to use a haiku as my selection.
I hide behind it
So much so that I forget
what being free is like
Sam P, this is what I wanted to write about today but couldn’t find the words. You captured it well! The haiku keeps the concept concise, compact, and compliant (in a way).
I got a shiver down my neck at those last words – “I forget/what being free is like” – wow. Three simple lines, so powerful.
Sam,
Your haiku is so powerful. Thank you for sharing today.
So lovely, Sam. There is nothing like a haiku to get right down to it! Yours is haunting.
Sam,
You and I had similar thinking today with our poems. I love what you did. I feel like it could be my poem…I hide behind masks at the worst times. Let’s break free!
🤗
Thank you, Mo, for this prompt today. I love P. Dunbar’s poem and often read it with my students. We talk about masks we wear daily, the reasons we do that, and how they differ or not from the ones Dunbar described. Your poem is so relevant to many of us, especially with the final question of “how can an old woman / unyoke an inherited mask?” There are days when I change masks more often than I wash hands ))
In my poem, I tried to be open to a possibility to show, see, witness, and embrace our fears, sorrows, grief, and all the other things we so skillfully try to mask. It’s easier to think about it than to practice actually. I didn’t expect, but the poem reads a bit of sonnet-ish.
Just Thinking
I wish the world was ready for us
To take off masks and spill the grief
In buckets, with no restrains,
To find relief of pain we’ve seen.
To cry in rivers,
To grieve in mountains,
To fear in forests,
To show up alone in the crowd,
Where everyone has “plus one.”
For true strength shouldn’t wear a cloak—
It’s in the courage to unveil, not coax.
To let the world watch our scars and grace,
Embracing weakness at its own pace.
While from the world the masks may shield,
The pain and wounds are never healed.
Truth! Truth! Truth! Few of us are strong enough NOT TO WEAR THE MASK. But, thankfully, here on Open Write, some of us feel safe enough to shift those masks aside … in poems like yours and others we see here.
Thanks Leilya!
Leilya, I found the imagery in this poem to be gorgeous. The second stanza, with the natural diction “rivers” “mountains” “forests” demonstrates how the earth is vulnerable with us and all its natural states of being, so why can’t we “cry” and “grieve” and “fear”? Thank you for sharing this gift with us today.
Leilya, thank you for this. “It’s in the courage to unveil” – this is beautiful.
Leiyla, I just love your second stanza. Your images are striking. I’m also intrigued by the idea that the world isn’t ready fur the unmasking. So nicely done!
Leilya, thank you for this insightful poem. I wish we could all do this: “To take off masks and spill the grief
In buckets…”
Such a powerful hope to open up like this.
Masked Reflection
All masks are always bad, they say. But
nobody says what might happen if you let
down your guard too far for the
person and the people and the world
around you. It’s far from a dream
and more like a nightmare, otherwise,
we would always break free. We
would always forget to wear
the facade, the wall, the disguise, the
veil, the vizard, the mask!
_______
An attempt at a Golden Shovel with We Wear the Mask 🙂 Thanks all!
KLH, I like your approach to the prompt. The idea of letting down your guard too much can be nerve wracking. You’ve conveyed that perfectly. Thanks for writing today.
Oh, klh!, I have just posted my poem and tried to imagine the world without the masks. Your attempt at a Golden Shovel is successful. Thank you for sharing your words today!
You used the Golden Shovel well to poetically show why wearing the mask may be a good thing. Who really want to see the real me! 🙂
Thanks for the methodology of the style. message of the poem.
klh, wow, what a thought to wonder what would happen if the masks all came down “too far.” I appreciate all the synonyms for mask in the last two lines too–especially “wall,” which seems to be what masks put between people.
Thank you for the lovely prompt–Dunbar’s poem is a favorite.
The Masks We Wear
On the first day at my job many
years ago, I wore earrings with
the faces of tragedy and comedy–
perfect, I thought, for a teacher
of literature and writing.
Within moments of arriving,
I was told that the masks were
gang symbols and today would
be the last day I could wear
the faces of Melpomene and Thalia.
But that was before I mastered
my own mask, one that wasn’t
visible to others–friend or foe–
and protected me from judgment,
embarrassment, and manipulation.
I learned to hide my thoughts
behind a neutral expression
because I was married to a man
who took advantage of every
crack in my overly open face.
Self-protection kicked in and
I learned to cover my emotions
with a visage that was both
calm and vague enough that I
wasn’t badgered nearly as much.
Any teacher will tell you that kids
ask outrageous questions–about
you, them, the literature we read–
and my poker face skills became
invaluable, too, in the classroom.
Articulate the difference between
castration and circumcision?
Absolutely. React to your behavior
in a way that validates you without
chastisement? I got you. I see you.
Now I appreciate the lessons life
has given me in mastering a mask
of cool, collected observation without
a glint of censure in my eyes.
Do they give Oscars to teachers?
Whoa, Cara. Love so much about this poem, but that closing line is perfect for our theme of masks and for the incredible daily performance that is being a teacher.
You have so much going on in this poem, Cara. I wasn’t expecting the lines about the gang symbols, but then you kept going deeper. That overly open face really got to be. Thank you for sharing this beautiful poem today.
Hi, Cara! Love your poem today. While I could never master “a poker face,” (I am more of the still “overly open face” kind), I am impressed by your skills. The final stanza just brings your experiences to a valuable conclusion. And yes, I think teachers should get Oscars too ))
Cara, I gravitated toward teaching to tackle this prompt as well. I loved the way you played with sound in this poem and the images you create. Thanks for sharing and I love the final question. It’s a cool tie back to the earrings at the beginning in a more contemporary manner.
Cara,
Wow! You do deserve an Oscar. I have seen your poker face enough to know you are a winner.
In what place are the tragedy and comedy masks a gang symbol?!?
What a gem of a line . . .
Cara, this is great! Like everyone else, I’m taken with your final line about awarding teachers “Oscars,” but the candid and sincere stanza about being married to someone “who took advantage of every / crack in my overly open face” was one of my favorite moments. I just loved the honesty of it. Thank you!
Anecdote of a Mask
-inspired by Wallace Stevens’ “Anecdote of a Jar”
I placed a mask in Stillwater
Among the weeds we grew wild
It caught the dust trucks kicked
In its cotton mouth
Country filled fiber pockets
kissing roadside tongues
The mask was heavy upon thistle
And fighting to rise in wind
Seasons loosened strings
The mask was threadbare
It turned toward tornadoes
To free words like nothing else
In Stillwater
Sarah — I just drove through OK on Monday, heading back home, and I thought about you a lot out there “among the weeds,” the “trucks,” the “dust.” Your poem is like you knew I was there in that endless wind…maybe I was there pulling your words forward “like nothing else/ In Stillwater.” I feel the connection and the mask lost and frayed away. Hugs, Susie
Sarah, I love the idea of placing the mask and growing wild. The cotton mouth image is brilliant here. Your last two lines are perfectly midwestern.
Sarah, I love the imagery in your poem: “weeds we grew wild” “caught the dust rucks kicked” “cotton mouth” kissing roadside tongues” Wow, so rich with interesting verbs and adjectives. I adored “It turned toward tornadoes/ To free words like nothing else”. Separating “In Stillwater” is so powerful. Love this poem!
Hi, Sarah! I had to look up “Anecdote of a Jar” and can see how you crafted your poem. I think your poem goes even deeper, beyond the anecdote. The idea to place a mask among the weeds is attractive. It makes me think of possibility that the mask could accumulate our experiences and struggles, while setting us free to move on with life and do things we want to do without burden of past scars. Love the final stanza; it’s so promising.
Sarah-
dusk trucks and cotton mouth
the weight of it and then to free the words
beautiful
I am not a teacher but was suggested to write a poem for this five day open write so thought I’d give it a try. I adore writing poems and I’m so excited to get started! Love the prompt for Day 1, so interesting and thoughtful. Here’s my poem:
Hidden
I relate to this topic in ways,
That no one else would think true,
From the faces I pull for strangers,
And the way my mouth sits still,
A flash of look surreal,
Quite hidden under skin,
Perceivable face at may,
Acts as puppet to them,
My manner and style have changed,
When people pull back the shades,
They see what they don’t quite know,
Personality a bright, unknown glow,
A shift in a world they don’t recognize,
I’m myself yet not in their eyes,
The air is warm,
and thin,
yet cold,
The day I’ll remember,
When my mask,
fell…
off…
A W, I’m so glad you joined us today. I really like the idea of pulling back the shades. Your last stanza is intriguing.
I’m so glad you shared your poem today. I love the images and sensory appeal you’ve developed through the lines “the way my mouth sits still” and “air is war, and thin, yet cold”. I also really enjoyed how your poem moved. Your end is provocative, leaving the reader to wonder exactly what did happen when the mask fell off. Thank you!
A.W. Your use of language is really wonderful and I find second to last stanza to be really profound.
Sure, Wear the Mask
“We wear the mask that grins and lies.
It hides our cheeks and shades our eyes,”
So wrote the poet, Paul Lawrence Dunbar.
Wearing such a mask has gotten us far.
When we see a kid on the block
Kicking a ball hard, not knowing it’s a rock.
When we see his mom come home late by the clock.
Do we grin, knowing what she’s been doing out there?
When we see a student sitting in gloom
As we circulate around the vibrant classroom
Do we smile and say, “Hey Jean, you’re about to bloom!”
Or do we verbalize our own worry?
We wear the mask, not as a disguise,
But because we know it may be wise
Not to tell all or to bring more prying eyes.
Shielding others may be our duty.
So, let’s continue with masks; it may be our task
If the reason we wear one is kind.
I’m sure God won’t mind, if below the mask
Is a heart of love. sharing His light, drawn from above.
Anna, I’m impressed at how you could turn this potentially “negative” prompt into something so positive and powerful, but I suspect that’s what you do with most things in your life. Nicely done.
Anna, this was just beautiful! Loved the shift that I felt in between stanzas 3 and 4 and the turn the first line of the last stanza took — this was so thought-provoking. <3
Wow, this poem caught my eyes for sure. Loved the use of rhyme throughout and the meaning is so powerful. We never know what others may hide for the sake of society’s minds. Loved this so much!
Anna, this is such a great direction you took for this prompt!! Honestly, it’s where my heart wanted to go but my brain couldn’t find the words to make it happen. I’m so glad you were able to take this spin on mask-wearing!! Beautiful!!
Anna,
Thank you for flipping this and showing us that wearing a mask can indeed be a gift and if what is below if full of love and kindness.
I wonder
if Thespis,
tired of being
the wallflower,
said the Greek
equivalent of
“Hold my beer”
to Clitus or
Catullus or
one of the
Plinys
and upended
the Chex Mix
to the floor,
held the bowl
to cover his
face while
he heckled,
Simon-Cowell
style,
the three
karaokeing
the choral ode
in the corner
of the orgy.
________________________________________________________
Thank you, Mo, for your mentor poem today! Your question at the end – how can one “unyoke an inherited mask” – is truly a doozy. How do we accept/challenge these “perceived” expectations set upon us by others? Good question! I love the ways your poem explores and engages with this struggle. In terms of your prompt, I enjoyed imagining how Thespis (who ancient historians credit with being the first “actor,” the first to wear a mask to impersonate someone else) might have come up with his idea, although, I gotta say, I don’t love the fact that it led me to him being a jerk and heckling people who were singing karaoke, lol. Singing karaoke is hard, Thespis, give them a break! Sure, you may have just “invented” theater – or theatre, if you’re feeling a bit pretentious – but, come on, there’s no call to be rude, dude.
Scott, this was — dare I say epic?! And your commentary afterward could be a poem in itself. 🙂
Way to bring the classics alive, Scott! Your poem could be a mentor text for a high school writing assignment, don’t you think? I love it.
Scott — I loved the wanderings through Thespis’ masking. The whole idea of who we are behind the mask/Chex Mix bowl…out there heckling… well, that’s just fun truth. It’s fun being behind a mask at times…being the observer, the judge. But then, it all comes to wondering and shadows…and dubbed voices. Very interesting take on the prompt… As always, this is fun and so crafty. Hugs, Susie
The way you pulled out the ancient characters and gave them modern actions is remarkable, Scott! I love the “hold my beer” and the imagery of the upended Chex Mix just to put on a show. Thank you for your work!
Scott,
You are so dang smart. The way you mingle classics with pop culture is beauty. I laughed aloud at the
Scott
This was violent and funny, filled with energy.
thank you
Mo, thanks so much for the focus on masks. I love the Dunbar poem, and remember someone using it as an activity where the kids made masks to personalize its impact through art. It has a lot of potential as far as classroom activities go.
I have masks as hats, my closet full of them. They tie to moments, events, locations visited, etc. I am sad that Dunbar’s poem still has relevance in today’s world, maybe someday.
My shot is more along the lines of masks we wear in relationships, and how they really go through a transformation to obsolescence. That is, at least as far as the affairs of the heart may be concerned.
WHEN THE MASK HAS ATROPHIED
In the 10:00 AM breakout session
I think I heard the the distinct voice
of my old fiancee,
speaking from seven or eight rows up
in front of me.
If it was her,
her hair was longer, shoulder length,
and a darker chestnut, not as red.
I hadn’t seen her since the early ‘90s
and I didn’t shout her name,
purposeful and romcommy,
no pounding on plate glass
or breaking into song.
I let the moment go
like a sleeping exhalation,
our passions a stale memory,
forgotten like burdock seeds on my old Carhartt coat
hanging on the air compressor
back by the yellow steel auto ramps
in the dustier part of my detached
garage.
Rex,
This was just lovely!
My favorite lines:
“I let the moment go
like a sleeping exhalation,”
and your final simile. This poem made me smile and filled me with that pleasant feeling one gets that comes with letting go with peace. Loved it.
Rex, that last stanza is just so lovely. I love the idea of just letting go of something/someone who was once so important. It must be so liberating!
Rex — Oh man! This is juicy with images that resonate for me. “Pounding on plate glass,” took me immediately to Dustin Hoffman in The Graduate. I particularly LOVED the images in the last stanza…the “letting go” and seeing those “burdock seeds” on the coat…the old garage…so full of what was. Dusty…how perfect! Well done! Susie
Rex, your distinct voice resonates throughout your poem. I really enjoyed how you opened this piece, and the sudden recognition you experienced in this theater or place. The third stanza I found particularly entertaining since I’ve watched so many romcoms and you’ve captured the craziness that might have occurred in a movie. Your end is riveting. I can see the coat, the air compressor, the auto ramps. What a way to wrap the whole moment to the distinct objects a reader knows well. Brilliant poem!
This was very romcommy, Rex 🙂 It pulled on my heartstrings as I can (somewhat) relate to the feeling of a lost love and the bittersweet peace that comes with knowing you’ve moved on. Wonderful simile about burdock on Carhartt, too. Really great work!
Rex,
I’m such a romantic and I often envision running into old loves ala Dan Fogelberg in “Same Old Lang Syne” but I like how uneventful it was in your poem.
and
really help paint the picture.
Mo – what a great challenge and inspiration! You sent my mind reeling so that it took me a long time to rein my thoughts into something coherent (?) on the topic of masks. Reading your poem somehow took me back to Shakespeares and “All the world’s a stage” except for this being in the roles and norms of womanhood and legacy. “How can an old woman unyoke an inherited mask?” – that is MIGHTY. Disrupting systems takes strength…sometimes superhuman.It speaks to us all.
So, I ended up with raccoons here. Not sure how – I just went with it. Thank you for this today-
Mask Obscura
Raccoon was named
for the way it used
its “hands”
rubbing and rinsing
its food
in water
not for the mask
forever typecasting Raccoon
as bandit-trickster
in human lore.
Unlike humans
these creatures know one another
by their individual masks
not donned as shields
or ritual
or protocol
or festivity
or theatrics
or deeds of darkness
but serving to
absorb light
in the night
to see
to survive.
Yet like humans
Raccoon covets shiny things
and can be trapped by them.
Hunters of yore
eventually learned
to cut holes in logs
to place a bit of tin inside
to hammer in nails
around the small circumference
knowing Raccoon
would be beguiled
would reach its hand inside
for the bright thing.
Once the fist was clenched
the creature would never let go
to set itself free…
in paradoxical symmetry
so does the creature that
named itself
for its supreme intelligence.
Might it have been better named
for its own myriad masks
and motives, ever disguised?
Or for the hubris and folly
accounting for so much of its
own demise?
If only Raccoon
had the ability
to write,
there might be annals
of Ring-Tales
read aloud in the night
at a gathering deep in the forest
by crackling firelight:
To see or not to see*…
Lord, what ultimate Tricksters
these Homo sapiens be!
There in that circle, perhaps
with shivery spines
and whiskers a-tremble
they name us
not for our deeds or dominion
but for the way
we wash our hands.
—
*Note: The collective noun for raccoons is a gaze.
Fran,
This is fascinating. I was so enthralled by the thread of this poem and how you masterfully situated the racoon alongside humans bring the reader into “that circle” of us and our and we with this powerful and even fun image of the racoon if only “had the ability/to write.”
Sarah
Fran,
I learned so much from this! A “gaze of raccoons” is a lovely word. Loved the etymology instruction that accompanied the beautiful picture that you painted here!
This was so cool:
“Hunters of yore
eventually learned
to cut holes in logs
to place a bit of tin inside
to hammer in nails
around the small circumference
knowing Raccoon
would be beguiled
would reach its hand inside
for the bright thing.
Once the fist was clenched
the creature would never let go
to set itself free…”
And these lines:
“If only Raccoon
had the ability
to write,
there might be annals
of Ring-Tales
read aloud in the night
at a gathering deep in the forest
by crackling firelight:”
put me in mind of one of my favorite books, Ishmael by Daniel Quinn, when Quinn talks about how we humans see the world as belonging to humans and ruminates on what the world might be if jellyfish thought it was created for them — a different story, indeed!
Great poem! 🙂
Wow, Fran! This was quite an adventure! I love what you’ve done with the prompt. I found myself thinking about other animal “fun facts” as I read your poem. You’ve done so many things so well in this poem. I am in awe.
Fran– This poem is just a real dandy. The images of the raccoon…those washing hands… yes, yes!
Indeed! So perfect!
The end just really nails the poem…”they name us…for the way/ we wash our hands.” Aah…so rich!
Susie
I can vividly see them Fran, discussing and questioning our own cruel antics. This poem really came to life for me, thank you.
Mo, this prompt took me to an unexpected place, lol.
Loved your poem and its picture of masks that we inherit! This summer has had me doing a lot of reflection on my family, and your words really struck a chord with me.
Here’s today’s offering:
My hand atop my pup’s brown eyes,
I tease him as, beside, he lies
and shield his eyes from world’s harsh glare –
with other hand, brush tufts of hair.
He shrugs me off and gazes up
as if to ask me what is up
and why and wherefore I would deem
the world too ugly to be seen.
I sigh; concede: the world needs viewing –
truth confronted, past reviewing,
Seeing with pained, jaded eyes
to help uncover harmful lies
that keep us mired in stubborn patterns
works to keep morale unshattered.
But, like my pup, I’ll try to be
more full of equanimity:
Take more naps, eat lots of snacks
Worry not for things I lack
Appreciate a walk or three
Beg head scritch from family
Stretch and yawn, give pause to thoughts
Learn to do what body wants
And, hopefully, by summer’s end
Well-rested, can begin again.
Wendy,
Your poem has a lovely rhythm like spoken word, maybe it is the way rhyme serves your tone and the scene of the speaker’s hands over the pup’s eyes, this contemplation of “the world too ugly to be seen” and then the paradox of “take more naps, eat lots of snacks” as a version of the “world needs viewing” that we can get behind. Indeed, I read this as there are many worlds to consider and the world in our homes is just as important as that one beyond.
Peace,
Sarah
Wendy, I love the rhythm of your lines, steady as a rocking chair, and the superb rhyming. Moreover there’s so much truth in so many places: harmful lies that keep us mired in stubborn patterns, the desire to be more gracious, the need to find rest and renewal. -You and your dear brown-eyed pup impart this here! Oh, to be as good and forgiving as a dog… my own eyes are welling up. Such an enchanting, comforting poem.
Wendy, the sounds and rhythm in your poem make me want to be a better writer! I love everything about this poem.
Wendy, I love the way your poem flows. Shielding your pet from the ugliness of the world is incredibly provocative. The need to feel rested resonates with me. Powerful poem!
Mo, your line, “unyoke an inherited mask” is resonating with me and my own generational experiences. Thank you for hosting today.
visors veil
sunglasses conceal
make-up blankets
surgery camouflages
nature’s furrows
maturing droops
growing imperfections
inner beauty
Stefani,
What a lovely first line with alliteration and a strong scene of summer that quickly shifts into a broader commentary of veil, conceal, blanket, camouflage of maturity toward. I like thinking about these furrows and droops as making visible the life that made possible the inner beauty!
Sarah
Stefani, a too-true take on aging, so concise… crowned by the most important attribute, inner beauty. Perfect finishing touch – exactly the spin to make us see it!
Stefani, your poem reminds me of a time when I traveled with a beautiful friend. I realized on that trip how many insecurities she had about her appearance. Many were caused by the way she was raised.
I love the seeming simplicity in your lines which really speak volumes.
Stefani, I appreciate the honesty of your take on this poem showing other ways we hide what is true. Veils among the religious is a good thing. Look how much they have hidden for centuries! When one wear sunglasses when it not sunny seems like we’re hiding something, when it may only be poor eyesight.
Wow! all you allusions to ways things are hidden for all sorts of reasons …yet we judge without considering the positive. Oh well, Your poem review the truth “inner beauty” that we all have ….somewhere …hidden behind the mask, the veil, sunglasses or surgeries.
M A S K
the trick of a mask:
it’s one fourth M
mmm…mmm-mmm good
maybe mmm, a pausing ponder or musing:
m…, I wonder…;
and the other 75 percent:
the art of ask
-ing
just what
lies past
a shellac we choose
as the carapace of our being,
who are we,
what are we
masking?
Let us
present our
selves,
calve the glacial ice,
stand naked
trumpeting
our primordial
truth.
by Susie Morice, July 15, 2023©
Susie, the calving of the glacial ice is so thunderously felt here – the naked being, the truths. You’ve combined image of the ice breaking and falling into the vast pool of truth with the sound that the ice makes when it cracks and falls, like thunder. One small fissure that begins and results in the calving. I love what you’ve done with the word M……like wonder, and the ASK. It works beautifully here to shine a spotlight on the questioning that happens as we consider the masks. Very cleverly, cerebrally, trademark Susie M!
Susie, I just love how you have broken this word apart and created such lovely imagery in this process (love the use of shellac). Thank you also for sharing this picture.
i love how you broke down Mask, that’s so cool and witty!! And the questions were very intriguing? I’ve read this one over and over! How shall we present ourselves 😀
Susie,
Thank you for this poem and for the languaging that helps me slow my eyes and tongue as I read. The spacing in the title, the ellipses reminding me to breathe, the mmm and the dash at the beginning of a line asking me to prepare for the next word. This all has me looking through the mask and time to ask “what/lies past.” I like this call to “stand naked” literally and figuratively as I am reading it — I am exhausted with and by these masks.
Hope you are enjoying time with your music/art friends today — clothed or not:)
Hugs,
Sarah
Susie, I loved your careful pulling apart of the word here — such a thoughtful approach to the “ask” of this prompt! And that phrase:
“calve the glacial ice,”
…just gorgeous!
Susie, what an incredible dissection of the word ‘mask’! Never even thought about ‘ask’ being significant in the word, beyond onset and rime. Such is the power of poetry: finding meaning, artistically carving a meaning. “The carapace of our being” is my favorite phrase, for the delicious sound of it plus its perfect part in the extended mask/shell metaphor. Just brilliant, through and through!
Susie, your poem is a technical masterpiece. What I love about it is that it becomes deeper and richer after each read. Just wonderful.
Loved this! I love how you separated some words such as “ourselves” and “asking”, thought it helped carry the poem along with a strong flow. I liked the pondering questions at times too, as if you’re unmasking the truth for us to see about the realism behind masking. Such an amazing poem!
Love love LOVE the way you helped readers to see MASK in a new way!!
Susie, wow, your poem is amazing. I love the way you develop your message and the striking sounds along with the images. Loved “calve the glacial ice, stand naked” the sensory appeal is brilliant. I can feel that cold and the roar of your ending is amazing. Thanks for sharing your incredible craft with us today!
Susie, I love what you did with form today – the punctuation, the separation of letters and dividing the word into quarters, especially with the ask portioned separately. And those extraordinary words calve the glacial ice (delicious!) and trumpeting our primordial truth (such heralding and strength!). The invitation to stand naked and strip ourselves of our masks – you are singing today!
Susie,
So thought-provoking! From your line breaks to word choice, this poem makes we want to read and re-read. These lines stick to me the most:
Thank you for the inspiration today. It allowed me to write about something from the past (thank God) that has been sitting with me lately. It reminded me of the mask my son wore when he was suffering with depression during his early high school years. I am not sure why this memory has been with me lately. I used a golden shovel to guide me (not an easy form for me) using Mo’s line “living life hiding behind a mask.”
Too long he was living
on the “fine” lines of life
hiding
his suffering behind
tight lips, vacant eyes, and hidden cuts – until a
secret slipped and shattered the mask
Heather, I’m so glad you wrote this. As a reader of your poem who has dealt with depression of adult children and both of my parents, the secrets hold the answers to the reasons that we don’t understand. The truth shatters the mask and brings understanding and a starting point for the hard work of the soul in working through the past. Wow!
Heather, thank you for this piece of your past. It brought tears to my eyes, thinking about how many people can’t/don’t shatter a mask to seek help. 💙
Heather,
Thank you for this golden line surrounded by your words, love to think about this nestling. And thank you for inviting us to bear witness to your son’s experience with depression and the way you are still carrying the memory now surfaced in this poem. I hope having a space for it to surface has been healing for you. It has been for me — to think of my own depression as how I carry its memory and try to ponder (as you are doing) why and when the glimpses return.
Hugs,
Sarah
Heather, I loved this! Depression runs in our family, too, and both of my kids have found themselves battling it at the onset of adolescence — you did a wonderful, true job of capturing the experience. Hope he has found out his way out of the tunnel and into a semblance of light.
Heather, there is so much to think about in this brief poem. I’m so glad you were able to write about this deeply personal topic. It is a testament to the healing power of poetry. Thank you for sharing this.
The imagery is just beautiful yet somber in a way that breaks this poem down to a great point within masking. I absolutely love the way you used the phrase “living life hiding behind a mask”, so unique and creative!
I’m awed (once again) by the power of poetry to unlock the words we need to write…and which someone else, surely, needs to read. Thank you for your vulnerability.
Heather, I can feel the emotion, all of it, in your words, from the “‘fine’ lines” to the slipped secret. It captures all that depression holds. Thank you for sharing what has been on your mind with us and trusting us to hold onto it with you. I love that you used a line from Mo’s poem too. The solitary word hiding does so much in the format – as if it’s burrowing away from all the other words, on its own, much like depression brings to those who suffer with it.
Depression is such a difficult thing for kids to understand and deal with. It is a mask of suffering. I’m glad the mask was shattered. Thanks for trusting us with this difficult memory.
Mo, thank you for the prompt today. A very emotional subject. Your poem made me think of how I live my life wearing a handed-down mask of a sort.
“Dad’s dying,
why are you being so nonchalant”
Well, is he crying?
Do you think that’s what he wants?
When it comes, it comes,
and I’ll deal with it then,
but for now
we can agree to pretend.
There’s still time to talk,
about the things that really matter:
the weather, the dogs,
Cabrera getting fatter.
You don’t win any games
by showing your cards.
And you don’t make any friends
by bearing your heart.
At least that’s what I was taught
by the guy in the bed,
who in a few months
is going to be dead.
He seemed to know his stuff
when I was a tike.
But I can’t help thinking,
that he might not be right.
Michael, I am sorry to hear this and appreciate you sharing this here today. Your third line is so powerful with the emphasis of “he” and re-centering on his experience and not those outside, looking in.
BAM!!! What a fantastic poem with rhyme scheme with Flow!! Great ending! Awesome!
Your poem hits home with my as my Dad is currently wheel chair bond. Thank you
Michael,
I love the shift that comes with the fifth stanza, and how there may be a new way of looking at things, but it still isn’t resolved at the end. Tragically, you have to lose him to lose his way of seeing things.
I also love how the third stanza focuses on things that probably really aren’t the important things. Totally a masking quality.
Michael, your third stanza is amazing. While this is a terrible situation, it seems almost luxurious to be able to talk about those everyday things that are somehow so important. Hugs to you.
Michael,
Thank you for your poem. The dialogue really situates me in a scene that resonates with me personally but also invites me to pull up and sit alongside to witness the unfolding. It is a craftful way to begin and structure a poem that I want to try. The rhyme lightens or makes ironic some of the words and tone, maybe a leavening that you are offering the speaker or the reader in this elegy. Either way, it gives me, the reader, space to breath and smile when I am near a tear. And lastly, this hand-me-down mask has me thinking it would be a great title for your poem.
Peace,
Sarah
Michael,
This was really spot-on for me: my dad was also not one to show his emotions, and I’ve inherited that talent/failing and have worked through the years to overcome it. Thanks for sharing this today (and loved the structure and rhyme!).
Such a powerful and emotional poem. I lost my father 15 months ago and have been writing about grief ever since. What a tough time and how you are processing all that he’s taught you.
Michael,
Your rhyme is great! It sound natural and easy and not at all forced.
Jeesh, it’s hard to see parents as flawed humans, especially when they leave us.
Thank you Mo for a wonderful prompt.
Mental Melee
The mask I wear,
I shall not share,
tormenting smiles
show I care.
Deep inside BEWARE!
The Pit does tear,
my peace into
despair.
Winks of grace dare,
to hide my locked snare,
splits my heart,
Like a rotten pear.
A mask gentle and fair,
hides the rage of a rabid bear.
I cannot breathe his
putrid air.
Devilish and rare,
through blue eyes I stare,
into a mirror of
no repair.
Freedom exist if I was bare,
Fortunately, they are unaware,
what lies behind my face,
and remains THERE….
-Boxer
Well that was quite a ride, Boxer. You are giving me serious Poe vibes on this early Saturday morning. I love how you can do that with short lines and a rhythm and rhyme scheme that often make me want to feel happiness, if that makes sense.
Boxer,
I loved the rollicking rhyme of this!
The language was fierce, I even want to say scary, but also confident and assertive. I wondered who the “his” was in stanza four — intriguing. This was a fun ride, a torrent of emotion.
Mo, I also have always loved Paul Dunbar’s poem. Thanks for hosting today.
Dream Daring
The thing about wearing a mask is
you never have to reveal what’s underneath
although eyes, shadowed or clear, may reveal
heart currents, masks can keep everyone safe
Masks say keep your distance
because you’ve captured or killed or want
to steal something valuable from the jewelry store on Main
For a long time now, I’ve felt the weight
of my mask squinching my face, adding more age lines
while I smile, say, It’s all good; I’m fine
like I’m fearless, a superhero ridding the world of evil
even though I can barely walk up a flight of stairs
I dream daring, ready to leap from a tall building
Barb Edler
15 July 2023
Barb, I like the conversational tone of your poem that drew me in from the first line, but then the mention of heart currents let me know you were going a little deeper. I could easily relate to your third stanza, especially the age lines! Your last stanza is so hopeful.
Barb — A lot of truth going on here. I like the notion of the “keep your distance”… “steal[ing] something… yes. Masks can be real “squinchers” for sure. Stay away from those tall buildings! Hugs, Susie
Barb, the heart currents – – what a metaphor, an image for intention and emotion, for our deepest sins, regrets, values, desires. Your poem brings to mind the question I’ve often had about the vial of that weight and how full it can get in a lifetime. The words dream daring, the idea of daring to leap is such a vivid metaphor for all the hope, the urge to set things right, to atone for the things that weigh us down as we approach the later years with those eye wrinkles that show we’ve looked at life from both sides now…..what a poem you have created today!
Barb,
I love the idea of the eyes behind the mask revealing heart currents. In the midst of the pandemic, there was such a reliance on looking into eyes for some level of understanding as the rest of our faces were covered. It almost begs for its own focus as a poem.
When I hit the second stanza, I am sorry, I saw you outside of Cahill-Pribyl Jewelry & Gifts fumbling with a .45.
Love how the mask’s weight squinches and ages.
Love how the same person who has a tough time on stairs ends up at the top of the building…
Barb, I can relate to the “mask squinching my face” and the smile of “I’m fine.” Aging is not easy. I dream daring. Keep on daring bravely, friend.
Thank you for this prompt, and thank you Ethical ELA for the open write! I need this week to jump start my writing.
Mask
One corner of my sock drawer
is still filled
with the memory of two
(or was it three?)
years of masking.
What began as protection
morphed into symbolism
and political division.
How you chose to face
the pandemic
was worn – or not worn –
on your face.
Now we wear
the facade
of normalcy –
the deaths,
the disruptions, all
masked by today’s fresh hells.
So much truth here. The masks in the sock drawer, the symbolism of political division and now the facade of normalcy. There are always hells to find. You usually write with such hopefulness. I feel this poem unmasked you in a way.
Mary, you’ve captured so much truth in your poem. I appreciated “morphed into symbolism/and political division” and how “Now we wear/the facade/of normalcy-” Your end is chilling. I loved “today’s fresh hells” as one of my favorite sayings is “What fresh hell is next.” Powerful, provocative and riveting poem! Thank you!
Mary, it’s amazing what you’ve conveyed with a peek into your sock drawer. Your poem hits home with me today, as I was recently sad that I had to miss an important family event due to traveling. So many family members gathered together happily, only days later to find out 8 got sick at the event. I can’t stop thinking about that facade of normalcy you mention. It’s truly a facade.
This is a powerful poem that captures the literal and figurative masks we have and continue to experience.
Mary Lee — I particularly felt the resonance with “the facade/of normalcy” — nothing is normal anymore. Nothing. And “today’s fresh hells.” Oh yeah, tell it! Indeed! Loved this poem. Susie
Mary Lee, fresh hells is a great way to put it – – the shifting sands of all hellishness never really pass, they just morph into a new badness. The facade of normalcy is perhaps the most dangerous of all, I think. Ignoring truth, turning the blind eye to what is right in front of our nose. And you’ve captured all the real ways we are right here in your lines. You’ve exposed the mask and called it what it is. A beauty of a poem!
Mary Lee,
is such a great line to culminate a very strong poem that captures quite a look at situational masks.
Mo, I love this prompt today and decided to use it to write a poem for my novel-in-verse. I borrowed the idea from your poem of the plaster cracking (love that image) and a few words from PLDunbar. One thing that is so helpful in the Ethical ELA Open Write is it pushes me to go where I wasn’t intending. It opens my soul to writing.
The Mask I Wear
I wear this mask for safety
So you can’t really know me
Wanting you to trust me
Cracks in my mask get dusty
O Christ, my cries unsoul me
While her wise words console me
I cannot be a true me
until I know who sees me
behind the mask of safety
lies the friend I want to be
Margaret, the line
I cannot be a true me
is so compelling – –
and the truth of the mask of safety is so rich and real, not wanting to risk what others may say or think of us if they knew the truths we ourselves are often reluctant to admit.
I love that you are writing a novel in verse~ what a beautiful gift to the world of readers it will be!
This is a perfect fit for your verse novel! I love your rhymes — remind me of the kind we use in ghazals!
Margaret, wow, you have such a powerful poem that moves effortlessly with its rhythm and rhyme. Your final line is especially moving. Loved “O Christ, my cries unsoul me” Yes, I understand those cries. Good luck with your novel-in-verse!
Margaret, the line “I Christ, my cries unsoul me” is breathtaking. I love its placement in the poem. It made me stop in my tracks.
Your poem speaks to me. I always worry about letting my mask down around people who do not know me well. The “mask” truly keeps me safe from worry.
Margaret,
How fabulous that you take one of these prompts and apply it to a verse novel that you are working on! I want to hear more! I would think a poem about wearing a mask would fit in seamlessly to any plot because we ALL wear them at times. The end repetition propels the poem forward so well and the subtle re-phrasing of your mask lines works so well. The line
is startling! Its sound is powerful and the idea of it even more so. Do our cries unsoul us?
Gorgeous, poignant verse, Margaret, speaking to self-preservation and longing. Cries and being unsouled… and so wanting to trust others. Wanting to trust self. You write with such grace; the truth of the friend you are is warm and real.
Mo,
What a great inspiration for us today! I love this Dunbar poem and we all need to think about our masks! Your poem is so universal. We all struggle to figure out how to shake off generational influence, don’t we? I wasn’t in the head space to even think about how my mask is made this morning, so I went in a more global direction.
Show Us, See Them
Why are we so aware that we wear a mask,
yet we seldom see that others don them too
If we hide our cheeks and shade our eyes,
shouldn’t we know that others put on the same disguise.
We hate and judge and question and sneer
at someone’s stoic sheen or resting bitch face
never thinking that, like us, they hurt and fume
and navigate life with torn and bleeding hearts.
We strive to keep the world from being over-wise
and knowing who we are or what we feel
Yet we walk the road and nod and smile
clueless that others are working to keep us dumb.
We don’t want to world to see our tears and sighs
and retreat behind the door to let them out
yet why don’t we look and listen to others
and encourage them to be who they need to be.
Take off the mask! And grin and cry and smile
Let others see you and see others underneath
Our mouths and eyes our portals to what’s deeper
Throw back the fear and let others travel inside.
~Susan Ahlbrand
15 July 2023
Susan, all those emotions we don’t want to wear – that we think make us look so weak – are guarded with the RBF as you so honestly mentioned in your second stanza. The shield, the mask, the keeper of the gate to our inner selves because we don’t want others to see our weaknesses in our struggles. You’ve brought truth to the forefront here – the need we all have to be accepted as we are, to expose our wounds and fears as we gain in understanding that everyone, everyone, everyone has them, and that we all wear the masks.
Susan, I totally feel your poem today. Our world is not just about our own masks, but everyone is wearing them. How do we make connections? I believe that connections are a pathway to love. And we can’t love ourselves with masks on, or others in their masks. What a wise poem and so well crafted.
It is so important to remember that we aren’t the only ones wearing all kinds of masks. Your fourth stanza moves the reader towards the kind of empathy we need in order to see beyond the masks.
Yes! I love how you’ve flipped the prompt to push us to think about others, which so many of us forget to do these days. Thank you for the reminder!
Susan, wow, your poem is rich with emotion, images and power. I had to laugh a bit with “at someone’s stoic sheen or resting bitch face”, but your voice is riveting, and I love how your second to last stanza expresses the need to be true and to “look and listen to others”. Your last line is triumphant. Fantastic poem!
Susan — I appreciate the tone of wisdom here… that others are walking in the same shoes is certainly true. The sense that we are a community when we share the look under the mask is so important. I also like the “over-wise” piece of “keep[ing] us dumb” is a crucial piece here. I hope to be a better listener. You say you went in a “more global direction,” yet it feels like you are right here in my office, sharing. Peace, my friend! Susie
Mo, the weight we carry, inherited or handed down, feels immense (onerous lands perfectly in your poem). I am struck by your word choice – unyoke – as it brings to mind beasts of burden. Can’t wait to hear more about your amazing trip! Glad you are back with us today.
I created a found haiku, taking lines from Bob Dylan and the etymology of mask.
The Great Unveiling
Surrender your crown
The dark clouds before rain comes
On this blood-stained ground
Jennifer, a found Haiku! From Bob Dylan’s lyrics! Genius! And the message is so intentional – – I’m in love with the first line and how it applies so richly to the senses of entitlement that prevail in our world. The word surrender is so powerful – – and it begins the poem with a call to action, a directive, to level the playing field and unveil the truths that we are all human, and all things come at great cost. There’s something about the word surrender that speaks to me today, and I’m wondering how I can be more surrendering in different areas of my life.
Such power in just 17 syllables! “Surrender” is a great first word choice when thinking about masks. And the near rhyme of crown and ground. You are making me think this early morning.
Jennifer, wow, I love the power of your haiku and the religious undertones you’ve captured! What a perfect title, and those dark clouds and blood-stained ground is brilliant! Awe-inspiring haiku!
This is a masterful haiku, Jennifer. Your last line really gives me pause and makes me think of those who came before us. Your poem will stay with me.
Jennifer — Yes! You and Dylan are tellin’ it this morning! Much to think about with that “blood-stained ground”… may the rains cleanse the woes. Hugs, Susie
Jennifer,
Great example of less saying more! Such a world of difference between wearing the crown and the blood stained ground. It pushed me to visualize Shakespeare’s Richard the Third.
Mo, your poem really speaks to me. I’ve thought of my ancestors so much these past few years. Their masks became mine too. Thank you for this prompt. I’m off to scribble.
Mo, thank you for this amazing prompt today – especially as you are away with Kenya Connect doing all of the great things you’re doing! Thank you for your honesty in your poem, too – – I was just thinking about this the other day when I caught myself in a moment of inherited mask syndrome, as you so aptly describe. Two things came to mind when I read your poem, in addition to all the memories of previous generations’ masks: the poem A Bag of Tools by R. L. Sharpe (a favorite since high school), and a birdwatching excursion in Palo Duro Canyon State Park in Texas over the summer, as I sat behind a bird blind counting birds. I chose a Golden Shovel poem using one line of Sharpe’s poem today. Safe travels to you, and thank you for investing in us as writers today!
Blinders
behind the bird blind, watching unaware, counting each
species, observing, admiring, appreciating, pondering: is
this what would happen if people were given
the same fanfare over the wonder of our beauty? a
way to admire all our brilliant feathers, to regain childhood’s shapeless
notions of race, share the same branch, and remove the mask?
Kim, the format of your poem today (golden shovels produce such amazingness), first half setting and last half question posed, reminds me of what essay writing attempts – only in a much more lovely way. I am struck by the “shapeless notions” and how beautifully the words pair, in sound, in meaning, in structure, especially juxtaposed against the structure of masks. I kept thinking of cedar waxwings (with their little masks) and how social they are, feeding one another down the line.
Kim, you brilliantly wove this striking line into such a profound question. “Regain childhood’s shapeless notions of race” is a hope for us all. I’m glad I share the same branch as you, my friend.
I love the comparison of a bird blind to a mask!
Kim, I absolutely love how you’ve developed this concept through your birdwatching experiences. Loved “share the same branch” image and the provocative questions you ask the reader in this poem. Stunning, brilliant poem! Thank you!
Beautifully done, Kim. I felt like I was sitting in that blind, looking out at humanity. I think the golden shovel helps your metaphor perfectly. I love where you’ve taken this prompt!
If only we could find “a way to admire all our brilliant feathers” without judgement but only wonder. I love your connection to birdwatching.
Kim — My favorite lines are the recapturing “childhood’s shapeless/ notions of race, share the same branch, an remove the mask”… the beauty of the childlike wonder… yes! I love how you brought the bird blind to the child image…lovely. Hugs, Susie
Kim,
A remain in awe of how you can take multiple pieces of what’s going on in your life and the prompt and a form to create such beauty. And it always seems so effortless. The double entendre of “blinders” shows such wisdom. You manage to make the golden shovel work so well with no awkwardness. I love this idea that connects us with birds brilliantly:
Kim, my initial thought with this prompt was to do a Golden Shovel with “All the world’s a stage, and all the mean and women merely players.” I quickly slammed into a wall with that and had to redirect my thoughts. Your verse, however, flows like liquid gold – of course the admiration for the birds and their beauty (it’s endless!) and the question of translating that to the human species. Fanfare for. every unique individual, just as they are – for are we not all fearfully and wonderfully made?? Much, much food for thought here – as well as a reminder to return to childlike, but not at all childish, non-judgment.
Kim, what a beautiful question your poem asks, and the metaphor of birdwatching is lovely. “what…if…” indeed. I love the thought of giving each other “fanfare over the wonder of our beauty”